The Man in the Mirror
by R0cketScient1st
Summary: The Doctor is alone again, running. Everything seems normal until he discovers that his reflection is more than it seems. The Doctor is forced to face himself in a way he never has.


_A/N Hello, all. I was bored at work one day, so I wrote this up quickly. As a result, it's not as good as I'd like it to be, but I'm happy with the concept. Please read, enjoy, and review!_

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"_We stand there, eight years old, staring at the raw power of time and space, just a child. Some would be inspired. Some would run away. And some would go mad."_

"_What about you?"_

"_The ones that ran away! I never stopped."_

The Doctor was running again. Running, running, always running. Sometimes he wondered if he was running _away_ from something or _toward_ something. More than a thousand years to figure it out, and it seemed he was no closer to an answer.

For all the efforts he made to have companions at his side, he spent an awful lot of time alone. He was alone now. Alone with his TARDIS, who seemed almost petulant in her silence. Not her fault, he knew, but still.

"You could leave a note now and then, at least," he grumbled as he flipped a switch, altering their course slightly to avoid turbulence from a nearby black hole.

Where was he going? He didn't know; he hadn't even bothered to plot destination coordinates. The TARDIS had told him a long time ago she would always take him where he needed to be. Her soft humming was the only the answer she gave now.

He turned to the side and caught a glimpse of himself in a particularly reflective piece of equipment. So young. He looked so young. But he felt ancient, and the feeling increased every day. It was another way he was running – running from age, running from death. When he thought about it, he realized this game of cat and mouse with death was more habit than anything. He honestly didn't think he feared death anymore. What was it the beast had said to him in that hotel of horrors?

_"An ancient creature, drenched in the blood of the innocent... drifting in space through an endless shifting maze... for such a creature, death would be a gift."_

Ah, yes: a gift. Freedom from the pain. And yet, he couldn't seem to stop running. How many times had he regenerated now? 11? 12? Sometimes he forgot, and that frightened him more than anything. Even though he had no control over the outcome of a regeneration, he knew he was somehow subconsciously forcing each face he took to be younger than the one before. If he aged backwards far enough, maybe he could erase the mistakes, or at least the memories, of his long, terrible life. Of course, the idea of it was ridiculous, but it was just his subconscious, and he was just a madman with a box.

"Ah, look at you. You look younger every day. And older, too." The Doctor froze for a moment. Had he said those words out loud? He looked at himself again. The face in the mirror was moving, but the Doctor was standing perfectly still.

"Hello, Doctor. Surprised?" It looked like him, sounded like him, but was definitely not him.

"Well, yes, I suppose I am. Who are you?"

"Why, I'm _you_, of course! Look at me. You see me every time you look in a mirror," the familiar stranger grinned madly.

"You're an alien," the Doctor stated, rather matter-of-factly. "How long have you been on the TARDIS?"

"Oh, long enough to get to know you quite well, Doctor. Did you know you talk to yourself? I think you're going crazy. Have you seen yourself lately?"

The Doctor stared at the creature, speechless and a bit confounded.

The mirror creature continued babbling. "No, I don't suppose you have seen yourself. You just see _me_!" It laughed uproariously.

Shaking off his stupor, the Doctor finally responded. "You think you're so funny, but I don't understand you. Who are you? Why are you here? _How_ are you here? What do you want from me?"

"Details, details. I hopped on board sometime long ago, and I've just been following you ever since. You're such a very interesting fellow, after all. So sad, so old, so alone."

"Do you have a name?"

The mirror-Doctor looked suddenly pensive. "I suppose I have, but I haven't heard it in so long. I don't know."

"So, you're alone too, then?"

"Very alone. But not so alone as you."

"How's that?"

"Oh, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor. Do I really need to remind you? Unlike me, you don't choose to be alone. You run from loneliness. I embrace it. It saves me from heartache. You've had so much heartache, Doctor. Shall we remember some of the more recent tragedies? Amy and Rory: Taken by the Weeping Angels. River Song: Gave up her regenerations to save your life. Clara, your "impossible girl": Died twice, again to save your life. And what have you done to deserve such love and devotion? I think nothing. Remember their faces, Doctor. Faces say so much about a person. Remember how they looked at you as they gave themselves up to be devoured by time."

"Stop. Please, stop," the Doctor murmured, putting his hands to his face and clenching his eyes shut, trying to block the memories, the images that haunted him all the time. These ghosts were new and fresh, but they did nothing to mask the hundreds, thousands of old shadows that hid in the back of his mind. It never got better; it just changed. Like him. The Doctor never got better, either. Just different.

The stupid face in the mirror was still laughing at him. If only it didn't look exactly like him – then he could treat it like any other troubled alien creature. By taking his face, this creature forced the Doctor to listen. How many times had he stood in front of a mirror and shouted angry words just like those? Too many to count. Of course, the creature had probably been there all along. It knew exactly what to say; it had been listening.

As if hearing the Doctor's thoughts, the mirror-Doctor grinned again.

The Doctor calmly walked out of the control room, desperate to escape himself, but not knowing where he hoped to end up. When he got there, though, he was hardly surprised.

The library.

No place lent itself as well to his self-pity as the library. From floor to very, very high ceiling, it was full of annals of Gallifrey's history, records of the Time War, and tales of the many travesties in the universe he'd either caused or failed to stop. Hidden in the upper shelves were equally many stories of his heroics and the catastrophes he'd averted single handedly. They were dusty, aged, and unopened, though, because they were the only thing that made him feel guiltier than the horror stories did. Why should he be allowed to perform such acts of greatness when so many millions of beings suffered and died by his own hands? Sometimes he imagined he had two different selves, two different faces - the angel and the monster.

As the Doctor browsed his library absentmindedly, he again glimpsed his face in a gilded column.

"_I've lived too long."_ Once more, he had to wonder if he'd spoken aloud, or if the mirror-Doctor was back.

It was back.

"You really think you can get away from me? Have you ever noticed how incredibly _reflective _your TARDIS is? You can see yourself almost everywhere. And where you are, there I will be also! It's rather convenient for me, since I only exist when you can see me. By the way, you have a new wrinkle. You're aging faster than you used to. I think the beast in the hotel noticed that, don't you? Oh, I can tell that's what you've been thinking about. I know you, Doctor. Perhaps better than you know yourself."

The Doctor was torn between fascination and fear. Part of him wanted to run, but he knew the creature would follow him everywhere. He almost welcomed it. After all, it was the first creature he'd met in a long time who was being honest with him. It had been a while since he'd had to deal with someone who despised him as much as he despised himself.

"Remember it, Doctor. Remember the hotel – all those rooms, containing objects of worship and fear, all wrapped into one. For Amy – sweet, irascible Amy – it was you. But of course it was you. Remember how much it hurt to convince her to stop trusting you, to stop waiting for you. But you succeeded! And so you started to lose the Ponds by your own choice!"

The Doctor closed his eyes again, knowing what came next, but hoping the creature somehow didn't.

"And, Doctor, that's why you were so unsurprised by what you found in your own room. Ah, how the idea still haunts you. I can almost picture it: you, the great Doctor, with millions of beings – humans and aliens alike – worshiping at your feet. But you were completely and utterly alone, weren't you? And then, at a second glance, you saw those faint figures flickering in and out of existence around you. Rose. Martha. Donna. Astrid. Wilf. Sarah Jane. Amy. Rory. Everyone you've ever broken a promise to. Everyone who's died because of you. Everyone whose life you've destroyed. Everyone who loved you unconditionally in spite of it all. And what was your response? '_Of course. Who else?'_ And that, dear Doctor, is why you'll never get rid of me. Because when dream of the thing you fear the most and the thing you worship the most, you dream of yourself. _And I am you!_"

He knew it was true. Ever since the Time War, he'd been terrified of himself. That war had been his crowning glory, his greatest atrocity. Anyone capable of what he'd done must be a monster. And it had gotten worse over the years as he'd crossed the line more and more easily.

The Doctor looked hard at the creature who had dared to steal his face and his thoughts. "Who are you to decide for me what I can and can't do? We've only just met. You can't possibly follow me everywhere. Besides, you've already proven yourself a liar – I don't _worship_ myself."

"But of course you do. For all your great wisdom and knowledge, Doctor, you are awfully blind. Answer me this: who can you be sure will never leave you? Who do you ultimately trust to control the outcome to every situation? Who ensures the path of your destiny? Who, Doctor? _Who, Doctor?_"

And the Doctor realized his reflection was right; the only answer was himself. He'd watched his companions time and again trust him completely, only to let them down. He never let himself down. He always knew what choices he would make, even if he hated himself for them.

"So, that's it then. I'm terrified of myself and I worship myself. And what a grand mess that is."

"No wonder you're still running from yourself."

"No wonder I'm still running from myself."

The Doctor stood in the middle of the library, staring at his grinning face in the column, and realized how utterly alone he was. A single tear fell from his eye.

In the time it would take to blink, the mirror-Doctor grew to a monstrous size, filling every reflective surface in the library. It also began laughing maniacally.

"Thank you, Doctor! I can almost taste my freedom!"

Momentarily confused, the Doctor was so surprised that he lost every trace of self pity.

"What do you mean? Free how?"

But the creature didn't get a chance to respond. The TARDIS landed abruptly with a heavy thump, causing books to pour out of the shelves all around him. By the time he sorted himself out, the creature was gone. _Gone where?_ He wondered.

And then, all of a sudden, it all made sense.

"Wait! Come back! You can't leave – I won't let you!" The Doctor pushed books away from him and scrambled madly for the library door. He raced through the TARDIS corridors back to the control room to find the creature had discovered how to work the holographic voice interface.

"Well, that was quick, Doctor. Not quite quick enough, though. I was just leaving." As he spoke, the creature was working various controls on the main interface.

The TARDIS door opened.

Frantically, the Doctor tried to undo everything.

"I won't let you out there. I don't care where we are; no one deserves you. You feed off tears, you horrid beast. You live in our mirrors and steal our faces just to make us cry. What is it? Salt? Lysozyme?"

"Very clever, Doctor. You've always had such a scientific mind. Fortunately for me, all I needed from you was one tear. Time Lord tears are remarkably powerful, and quite hard to come by. Your people have – sorry, _had_ – very little remorse for anything. Proud races are the worst. But, I got what I needed and now I have enough energy to leave the TARDIS. Not for long, but by then I'll be in a hundred mirrors and wear a hundred faces. You'll never find me!"

It just so happened the Doctor had stalled the creature long enough to get the TARDIS door closed. The creature cursed under its breath.

"Nicely played. You win this round. Hold on, though, I think I can alter the circuitry from within this holographic matrix…."

"Not a chance. You see, while we were talking I disconnected your projection from the interface." The Doctor held up two halves of a still crackling, sparking wire. "My holographic voice interface won't work for a while – which is rather unfortunate – but you have no control over the TARDIS. I will destroy you before you destroy one more life."

The holographic Doctor stared challengingly at the real Doctor, who returned the stare.

Neither moved for nearly a minute.

The hologram grinned again. "I still have one ability you can't take from me." And he transformed. It no longer wore the face of the Doctor.

It smiled sweetly. "Hi, Doctor. Remember me?"

"Rose Tyler. But you're not really her, and nothing you say will convince me of that. Nothing has changed – you're just wearing a new face."

"Ah, but you wouldn't have hesitated to destroy me when I looked like you. Can you bring yourself to destroy Rose?"

The creature transformed again. "Or River?"

Again. "Or Amy? You see, Doctor, I can be anyone you want me to be."

"You're not them. I will destroy you."

"Will you? _Can_ you?"

The Doctor paused momentarily to consider. Could he? It wasn't Rose, or River, or Amy. But it looked and sounded just like them. He also realized he may have made a mistake by disconnecting the creature from the TARDIS. The creature couldn't control the TARDIS, but neither could the Doctor control him.

"My dear Doctor. You look so lost. You have no plan, do you?"

"I'll make it up as I go. I always do. One thing's for sure: you are not getting out of this TARDIS. You'll run out of energy eventually. You'll need more tears – and you aren't getting any more of mine! In fact, you've made me very, very angry and I don't think you'll be happy you did."

Rushing around madly, the Doctor started flipping switches and pulling levers all around the control room, launching the TARDIS back into space. At least this planet would be safe from the mirror monster. When the Doctor looked up from the controls, the hologram-Amy was noticeably smaller. The Doctor smiled darkly.

"You're shrinking. You're losing energy. Quickly, too, by the look of it."

Amy's face watched him petulantly.

"I bet you have to go back into the mirror when you get too weak."

Stare.

"How long? Five minutes? Ten? Look, plenty of reflective surfaces to use!"

Stare. It had shrunk again.

"This is the end, nameless creature. You may think I'm weak – and maybe I am – but you are not going to win this. Give up now, and I'll let you live."

"You won't kill me, Doctor," Amy's voice quivered convincingly.

"Oh, yes I will." The Doctor's voice took on a hardened edge, making the creature blink in surprise. It was about half the size it had been before, making it look almost comical.

As he watched, the creature began to shrink visibly. Just when it seemed impossible for it to get any smaller, it vanished and reappeared as a face in a mirror on the wall. It still looked like Amy.

"Help me, Doctor, please!" Reflection-Amy called desperately. The Doctor took a deep breath and reminded himself the creature was not the real Amy. He could destroy it if he chose to. At that moment, he realized he would never forgive himself if he didn't destroy the monster while he had the chance.

He picked up his sonic screwdriver and approached the mirror. It was strange to see Amy's face when he looked at himself, but he accepted it.

"Leave, now, and never come back," the Doctor said. His voice was soft and threatening.

"Or what?" Mirror-Amy asked, looking sad.

"I'll kill you."

"No you won't!"

"I will. I promise you, I will."

The creature scoffed. "I'd like to see you try. I'm just a face in a mirror. How could you possibly kill me?"

"Well, there's an old Earth superstition about breaking mirrors and bad luck. I've worked out that you and your kind probably started that superstition to protect yourselves. If that's the case, a broken mirror certainly can't be good for you." The Doctor put his nose against the mirror and stared the creature right in the eyes. For the first time, he saw fear there.

"But, Doctor," the creature said, a bit desperately. "How can you destroy the face of someone so dear to you?"

The Doctor laughed coldly. "You're just a ghost of her. I've covered that scar with so many new ones, I can't even feel it anymore. Believe me, I can destroy you. I might even enjoy it."

Now the creature was clearly terrified.

"No, Doctor! You can't! I'm the last of my kind, just like you. I can live here with you in the TARDIS. We can be together, and not lonely anymore. I promise I won't even watch you in the mirror anymore."

"Then what? The next time we land on a planet you try to escape again? I don't think so. I'm done with you." He pointed the sonic screwdriver at the mirror.

The creature screamed.

The mirror cracked into a spiderweb of a million silver strands.

"Please, Doctor, please! Have mercy on me! You'll never even know I'm here!"

The Doctor let his hand fall to his side, still tightly gripping his screwdriver. Through gritted teeth, he asked, "Then, what? What do you want me to do?"

"Just let me stay on the TARDIS with you. That's all I ask."

"Don't you need tears to live?"

"You cry plenty, Doctor."

The Doctor turned his face aside and considered the creature's request.

"I just have one question for you, Mirror Monster. Does it give you pleasure to cause pain?"

The creature's protestations stopped, and it smiled. "Why of course! Doesn't it give you pleasure? How can you live with yourself, after all the pain you've caused, if it doesn't give you some amount of pleasure?"

Taken aback by the response, the Doctor turned back to the creature. "I've never met so selfish a beast as you. No, it gives me no pleasure. I can live with myself because every day I hope to repair some small part of the damage I've done. Every day I remind myself that I've destroyed too many lives, and decide to heal instead. Every day, Mirror Monster."

"I don't understand," it responded, genuinely confused.

"No, I don't suppose you do. No one does. No one can."

As the creature opened it mouth to speak again, the TARDIS shook violently. The Doctor ran to the control panel.

"What's wrong, Dear? What's going on?" He checked the gauges and dials; nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The TARDIS shook again, and alarms started going off. "I don't get it!" The Doctor yelled over the din, helpless. He looked at the scanner. Nothing outside. A loud, piercing scream caused him to spin around in time to see the mirror shatter into shimmering confetti. The screaming died away, but remnants of the sound seemed to float down with the shattered glass. The TARDIS was still and silent.

"Did you do that?" The Doctor looked up into the darkness above him, understanding the TARDIS couldn't respond, but already knowing the answer. Movement caught his eye, and he looked at the scanner again. Words were scrolling across it.

"I UNDERSTAND I UNDERSTAND I UNDERSTAND I UNDERSTAND…" Over and over again.

A sad smile slowly spread across the Doctor's face.

"You shouldn't have killed it," he chided.

Silence.

"Thanks, anyway."

The TARDIS moaned softly.

"I love you too."

He quietly began to pick up the pieces of the mirror, letting the TARDIS control their destination yet again. One of the pieces was still large enough for him to see his whole face. It was reassuringly still, but his hearts were heavy. Another race completely destroyed because of him. He briefly considered breaking all the mirrors on the TARDIS, but quickly realized how impossible that would be. And pointless. He'd still see his face everywhere.

No more death, he decided. No one else should have to die because of him. Then, just maybe, he'd finally get away from himself.

He could faintly hear his own voice, a half-forgotten thing, shouting in the back of his mind.

_Who are you to decide such things? Who made you ruler of the universe?_

The Doctor shook his head, trying to clear the voice from his memories. If he could just run fast enough...

_Who, Doctor?_


End file.
